O'Children
by TheBlindRaven
Summary: Children shouldn't be in the war; but they didn't have a choice and grew up too fast, too soon.
1. gunpowder makes guns

**Title**: O'Children

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **Children shouldn't be in the war; but they didn't have a choice and grew up too fast, too soon.

**Notes: **The title was inspired by the song, O'Children by Nick Cave. Listen to it. I only adopted the title, not the meaning of the song. I don't own the song neither.

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If only people weren't filled with greed, the want for more when they had plenty. If only the world was fair, and there was no thing such as rich or poor: that way no one would be jealous, nor filled with envy with what others have.

They were children. They experienced a hundred years of war in nine months. They've seen soldiers fall, their armor covered in soot. They've seen children running around, engorged with fire. They've seen mothers dig graves for caskets smaller than Momo.

They've heard the cries of mercy, the shrill scream of a child startled by their nightmares, the muffled sob of elders: who remember when all was peace, and fair, and togetherness. They ask theirselves what have they done to deserve to live in a world with fear, and darkness, and an eternal fire wall following them. They fear seeing smoke, even if it is their own fire. The one they must make to get warmth, and seek momentary happiness.

The Gaang would sit together as close as possible as it was, and spoke to cover up the eerie noises that materialize out of nowhere, or the snaps from the woods or the ruffling of the grass in a meadow when there was no wind.

Toph would hide in her rock tent, and she wouldn't sleep. She didn't know the difference between awake and asleep, as both were dark. She would stay on guard, feeling for any unfamiliarity. Sometimes she would cry, (and prayed she wasn't heard) for her parent's safety. If anything happened to them, she will seek revenge on the person who caused them any harm and they would wish they have never step foot near the Beifong's.

Aang still wish he was in the iceberg. That way he would never have experienced nor had knowledge of what he caused. It is selfish of him, but if only Katara and Sokka went fishing in another current, and he'd stay frozen.

Katara had grown up too quickly. She had to teach herself, and cook, and clean when her mother died and her father went away to fight. Her grandmother had the few years of life in her, and Katara wanted her to spent those in peace.

Sokka was a boy when he too sleep, and a soldier when he awoke. He slept with his boomerang and club next to him in case of any surprises.

They grew up too quickly. Fought to quickly. They killed men, slept on the groundEtta's bark and didnt showers for weeks on end and they couldn't be protect from the drastic world. They helped the world start on its journey to a slow recovery towards unity and peace and hope. They will want someone to tuck them in at night, and say everything is alright. But everything isn't!

They held each other close, and kept their distances at the same time. They cried on each others shoulders, but held their heads high: showing the others they can sustain on their own.

But the bedtime stories will be great. The stories being exchanged from lips to lips, changed, altered, exaggerated. They will know of the Gaang's sacrifices and bravery. Their determination to spread joy, and not fear.

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**Notes**: It's short, but just think about it. They were children basically thrown into war without knowledge of how cruel and evil it really was. Enjoy.


	2. the fire burned out and left ashes

**Notes: **I was told that I should write something similar but for the 'Fire Nation' kids, meaning Azula, Ty Lee, Zuko and Mai. Or so I think. If there's more that are relevant, too bad. I honestly didn't know this was going to be a two-shot. Funny thing is I wrote this in my Creative Writing journal. I imagine what my teacher is going to say?

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The royal family is expected to have the sweetest life filled with luxury and beauty. They lay in their bed of silk with its pure gold handcrafted headboard designed with the fierce dragons that represent the element. They dress, show up, smile and rule. They order around, and hide behind dragon fierce faces.

Instead of this 'easy going' commute, Zuko, the banished prince, wakes up drenched in sweat from the nightmares: the moment he was scarred mentally, physically, and emotionally. To think that a father is your bridge across the turtle duck pond, your supporter, your walking stick, the wise side of you is one thing. To know he is the complete opposite and that he is not sorry for what he did outright confused the already bewildered Zuko. Zuko, only a child when shunned. Sea sick, encased in hot metal with nothing to do except search for a myth. But then, the light shone, they fought, he converted and all was well.

It is not possible to come out of a war untraumatized. To sleep on the ground, very different from the cherry blossom sheets, and not fully drift into a deep sleep because you are afraid of letting your guard down is petrifying and tiring. Zuko could hear the crunched, and crushed bones of those unfortunate souls fighting against Toph. The water gurgling in their stomachs when Katara forgets who she is, and lets the moon possess her. Or how Aang could steal anyone's breath. Is it possible? Sokka with his slick and shiny sword, penetrating soldiers mercilessly. Before he converted, he did not feel sorry for anything. He wanted everything and everyone to experience as much pain and agony as he did.

Azula was collected and determined, driven, fierce; with a mind that was crumbling under the strenuous effort to be perfect. Especially in her father's eyes. In his gold, deceiving, emotionless eyes. She was stressed to the point where she would steal Mai's sleek, stainless steel blades and coat the floor with her nation's color. Being sent to the asylum did not help in any way possible. To be in a silent, all white building, with its blinding lights and blinding walls did not help. Quiet enough to hear her the tiniest voice in her head. The voice that always said,"_Perfection cannot be reached. Azula, you are a one and only. Azula be grateful for your body and soul. Azula... Azula..." _Or her various, lunatic voices screaming and screeching all at once.

And her head hurted. And her thighs hurted. From the men who brought her, her medicine and left with her blood. Her nails hurt from trying to claw her way out of the solid building that incubated her with her rotting thoughts and rotting soul. All alone.

And Mai wish she was next to Azula. She needed to be with someone; but she wanted to be alone. She wanted quiet and warm. But not as warm as the blood flowing from the bodies of innocent, young footed soldiers caused by her knives and blades. She cleaned them, scrubbed them to get the grime and blood off of them. Even when she saw plain reflection — more like ghastly, with the ever permanent shadows under her eyes, thin, cracked lips and limping hair — she kept washing and scrubbing. Mai was paranoid. She wasn't safe anywhere. And even ended an unintended life because her reflexes were too quick, and the person didn't know any better. She didn't attend her brother's funeral.

Ty Lee also scrubbed, and scrubbed her skin raw and pink. Washed her head until her scalp was sensitive and didn't stop there. She wanted to ash away the memories of the cold nights, identical sisters and brutal men. To erase the greedy hands of her body. Her bubbly pink aura started to darken into rich red, then stark burgundy, and then black. Until it faded all the way and Ty Lee could not feel a thing. And she was grateful. Or was she? She could not tell. Ty Lee, the peachy one of the group was now crying her soul out. Her rock was never smoothed. It was eroded. Washed away. Crumbled to pieces. And she tied all the pretty little ribbons the boys gave her and wore it as a necklace that stole her everyone's breath, including hers.

And even if the war was done with, and over, the war is still inside of them. The scars, the memories, having the knowledge that you are never safe in the world made them all cry. But they acted well. And fooled everyone.

**We're all weeping now, weeping because there ain't nothing we can do to protect you, O children.**

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**Notes: **The last bolded line is a lyric from the song. Hope this wasn't too dark, however I hope that you are satisfied by it. Review, please.


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